Possibilities
by St. Harridan
Summary: Even the mad scientist suffers from his experiments sometimes. Dedicated to Laerkstrein.


**A/N: **Dedicated to **Laerkstrein**.

Written for 5 Prompts on LJ.

**Table: **25

**Prompt: **#3 - Perhaps you'll do me a favour someday.

* * *

Possibilities

Kurotsuchi Mayuri wasn't one who got injured so easily. He was the one who tormented those who were unfortunate enough to be chosen as his victims, and he didn't know the meaning of treading lightly upon open wounds. He poured salt upon open, bleeding cuts, watching and taking pleasure in the sight of his "specimen" writhing in pain on his lab table, mouths wide screaming curses at him. He revelled in those screams; they were music to his ears, and he'd give no more than a scoff at people who cringed when he said so. They were nothing but mere maggots who understood naught a miniscule bit of the art of science.

But the man knew that there was every chance that the roles could be reversed, that he'd be the one on that lab table with someone else staring down at him with scalpels and forceps in hand. He took every necessary precaution to avoid that situation, however discomforting that it was, and was always successful in staying away from it. _He _was the scientist of the Seireitei, the brains of the Twelfth Division, and he had a reputation to take care of. What would people think if he himself were to end up on the other side of his own food chain?

That brute Zaraki would most probably pick on him for the rest of the year, and the man's pink excuse of a child would no doubt hand his rear end back to him on an ice cream cone.

With that thought in mind, Mayuri let out a low growl, then a wheeze as he felt his innards twisting and tearing apart. Immediately, he shot out a hand and grasped the woman's forearm, halting her before she could make another move to pick apart his entrails.

"What..._what _are you _doing_, woman?"

Retsu accepted his rude intervention with a smile, embracing it as if it didn't heighten the risk of death to his person.

"If you care for your own wellbeing, Captain Kurotsuchi, I strongly suggest you to lie back down and seal your lips before your condition worsens," she replied easily, silky voice breaking the silence that buzzed with nothing more than working machines. "There is every chance that you might die if you don't take my advice. In spite of your expertise in science, your experiment this time has suffered a terrible fate, and I, personally, wouldn't want poor Nemu to lose the man who had given her life."

At Retsu's words, Mayuri let out a snicker. He knew Nemu wouldn't mourn over him. In fact, he wouldn't even be surprised if she, along with the rest of the Twelfth Division, threw a party to celebrate his death. Always aware of his own cruel nature, he was, admittedly, still waiting for the time when his subordinates would backstab him and kick him out from his seat of captaincy.

But, seeing as the lot of them were nothing but mere cowards, Mayuri wouldn't bet on their rebellion being anytime soon.

In spite of everything, there was always a chance that Nemu would indeed be upset over his death. Mayuri wasn't in the least bit worried, for he was certain that he wasn't going to die this way, in the hospital lying in a bed and receiving treatment from the head of the Fourth Division herself.

Mayuri's grip on Retsu's wrist slowly loosened, and finally his hand fell back onto the sheets. She resumed her ministrations, working this way and that through his innards with her nimble hands. Whenever she strained against a muscle or tissue, he would clutch the sheets tightly, fingers twisting the fabric soaked with his own blood.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mayuri mused over what his lousy inferiors would say about him when they knew that he had been admitted into the hospital courtesy of an experiment that went haywire. He was notorious for his passion for science, and it was rare for him to even leave out the most insignificant of details when it came to his experiments. Having no idea of what had happened, of what triggered the sudden explosion that had the whole of the Twelfth Division barracks burned to smithereens and many shinigami blown into pieces, Mayuri settled for putting the blame on Nemu. He knew he shouldn't have trusted her with the handling of radioactive substances and the like.

But...there was still every chance that it was _him _who had screwed up.

_Impossible! _

Clenching his teeth, Mayuri clasped a hand over his eyes. It couldn't be his fault, could it? He had paid every attention to the most minute of details, set up the apparatuses by himself, planned out the procedure with his own two hands...and yet there he was, in the hospital with most of his figure gone.

"You can trust me not to utter this to anyone, Captain Kurotsuchi," Retsu murmured, and Mayuri cracked open an eye to look up at her. "Nobody will know of this other than the two of us."

Mayuri examined her, wary of the sudden change in her manner. Usually, the both of them would be head-to-head with each other in a race towards the finish line, Mayuri being the one who took the initiative. He detested the fact that she was able to cure every poison that he had concocted. None of his mixtures stood a chance against her healing abilities, and he was still in the process of discovering the ultimate poison that would render her skills and talents useless. A silent spark of animosity would come to life whenever he set eyes on her, causing him to always feel insecure around her.

"Why should I trust you, woman?" he snapped, swallowing another growl as pain shot through his ripped abdomen.

"You have every reason to trust me because," she replied, eyes never leaving her patient's bloody cavity, "I'm currently trying to keep you alive instead of just leaving you to die. Usually, if the patient's condition is unsalvageable, we would do nothing to improve it as we know that it is already too late. But, with you, I'm pushing past my limits, and you should be keeping your mouth shut and be grateful."

Mayuri scoffed, turning his head away from Retsu. "What a nonsensical excuse for a doctor you are, Unohana."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Retsu give him a small smile, one that held a sense of warmth instead of the cold facade that she sent him whenever they crossed paths.

"Perhaps you'll do me a favour someday," she said softly, but Mayuri could hear it clearly above the din of the machines. He rolled his eyes and let his lids drift to a close, certain now that, being in the hands of his fellow captain, he would wake to a new morning with fresh plans of conducting yet another experiment.

A grin of excitement, of mad lust for the comfort of his laboratory, tugged at the corners of his lips as he mentally laid out the procedures for his newest quest into the mysterious art of science.


End file.
